I find it hilarious that like, most popular headcanons/ideas of HMS come from something that's in the actual album. Whether its the cover art or from a lyric, it makes sense with context or a metaphor. Then there's just a random ass chicken that came from nowhere.

I'm Not Scared of What You're Gonna Tell Me

(~2k, Jaylos, TW for food issues/isle related food restriction. Seriously. This one is a little heavier than I usually write for tumblr.)

+

“When did you last eat?” 

Carlos pulls himself out of the schematic he’d been mentally working on. It’s easier to focus on certain things (like the problem of where to put the extra wire in the blender he’s trying to reconstruct) when he’s got something to do with his hands, and even easier still to get absorbed in the mental work when he’s got someone there to watch his back. “What?” 

Jay makes a soft noise. He’s perching on the windowsill again, but at least he’s on the outside this time. It’s not that anyone in Hell Hall is going to come into the kitchen, but it’s safer to have an easy escape route. The last time he came inside they had to jam him into the kitchen closet when Jasper unexpectedly poked his head into the kitchen, and while the closet is great for storing things like the occasional rusty canned goods and unrotten potatoes they get sent over from the mainland, it’s not a great place for a human person to hide in, and the amount of dirt they had to try and clean up wasn’t worth the small increase in comfort that Jay gets from sitting inside the window rather than on the sill outside. “You’re always in here,” he says casually. “but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat anything you make. When did you last eat?” 

There’s a pile of walnuts sitting on the countertop, next to the cutting board. Carlos reaches over with his left hand and picks up a single broken nut. He pops it in his mouth. It’s small enough that it won’t be missed from the sauce. “Right now.”  

“Doesn’t count. C’mon.” 

Carlos gestures down at the fully loaded cutting board he’s still working with. At the bubbling pot he’s got sitting on the stove. At the unmentioned presence of his mother in the next room, drinking herself to death and waiting for her nonexistent servants to bring out dinner to her and the guests, who also don’t exist and probably wouldn’t want to stay for dinner regardless. The Isle is a bit lacking in ingredients, and tomato-walnut soup isn’t exactly the level of fine dining that Cruella’s high-society patrons would have been used to had they ever existed, much less now, when they definitely don’t and likely won’t ever exist again. 

Still. Even without servants, without ingredients, and without a hope of ever getting off the Isle of the Lost again, dinner must be served.  “I can’t leave,” Carlos explains patiently. “I have to be here until dinner’s done.” 

Jay rolls his eyes, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “C’mon outside for one minute. She won’t notice, I promise.” 

She will. She has before, even just for a moment, even when it’s just a second of fresh air because the smoke inside the house is making his lungs close up again. “She will.” 

Jay shifts again, restlessly. His is a body meant to be in motion. He’s not built for sitting still and watching like this, but he keeps coming by to do it despite the fact that he’s definitely got more interesting things to do with his night. It’s weirdly sweet of him to keep coming by just to sit on the windowsill and keep Carlos company while he attempts to scrape something together to feed his mother and her minions, but it’s also wholly unnecessary, and they both know it. “What if you just hop out here for a sec? No door opening and closing means no problem with the noise, right?” Jay offers, hopefully. 

“She’ll notice if the noise in here stops. I can’t leave until this is done–” Carlos gestures with his chin towards the pot bubbling on the stove, not stopping the smooth chopping motion he’s been practicing since he was probably too young to hold a knife. Red juice drips down the sides of his hands, coating them in the sticky mess that he’s going to have to wash off the cutting board and the entire counter later. Jay would probably lick it off, if Carlos would let him. “And she’s eaten and left me the dishes to clean. I can maybe steal a few minutes while I’m supposed to be washing up, but nothing before that.” 

Jay whistles through his teeth, the sound low and impressed. Or maybe not. Villains are villains no matter where they are, and just because Cruella has a house to maintain doesn’t actually make her worse than any of the other adults on the isle. “Damn. Tight leash much?” 

“You know it. So, you gonna stick around for…” Carlos hesitates. At least another forty minutes for the soup to be done, and then twenty minutes of coaxing his mother to put down her drink and actually eat, and then dinner and cleanup after that. “At least an hour and a half until I’m done?” 

Jay nods. “So long as you promise me you’ll eat something after that.” 

It’s one of the easiest promises that Carlos has ever made. “Sure thing. I’ll meet you in the treehouse once I’m done here.  I’ve got food in there that my mom doesn’t even know about, and it’s not even moldy this time.” 

“Sure,” Jay echoes back. There’s a weird furrow between his eyes that’s not usually there. “You have food up there?” 

“Yeah, I just said that.” Carlos says, letting a hint of the irritation he’s feeling bleed into his voice. He’s tired, and hungry, and the smell of the tomato soup is making his stomach ache. “What else do I need to repeat? Hour and a half, treehouse, we’ll both be there. You can hang out down here until then, but I can’t give you anything from the kitchen tonight, I’m sorry. There’s barely enough for my mom and her henchmen as it is, and if we take anything she’s going to notice and have my hide for it.” 

“I didn’t ask for anything,” Jay says, sounding irritated as well, even though he wasn’t just a moment ago. “I get it. You can’t share tonight.” 

It feels like they’re talking at odds with each other, which isn’t how talking with Jay usually feels, and it’s making Carlos more pissed off than he has any right to be. “I didn’t say that,” he snaps. “I said I can’t give you anything from the kitchen. You can have whatever you want from my stash, you know that. It’s all up where it usually is. If you’re just here to take my food you can go up and eat already, you don’t have to wait for me to do it.” 

“I’m not going to leave you to starve down here while I go through your stash,” Jay insists, gesturing short and sharp and irritated. “Dude. I’m not that much of a dick. You deserve it more than me.”

Carlos doesn’t deserve anything, not until the food is done and his mom and her henchmen have had their fill. He cooks and cleans and survives on the scraps they don’t want, and that’s how it’s always been, and he’s fine. He’s got his treehouse and his machines, and the barrier that keeps him from dying outright from the hunger. He’s not like Jay, who steals all his meals himself and doesn’t get pushed around at school and isn’t afraid to tell people no when he doesn’t want to do something. 

“I–” Carlos huffs out a sharp breath, annoyed at the way things are going. “Whatever, man. Just do whatever you want.” 

A dark, sulky look passes over Jay’s face, and then he relaxes into his usual carefree expression. “Fine,” he says, letting whatever irritation he’s been carrying fade away into nothing. “I will.” 

Carlos breathes out a sigh of relief, and turns back to his pot, where the broth he’d made ages ago, back when he’d had a string of good luck with his machines and sold one of them for enough money to buy a whole chicken from the market, is bubbling away. They’d had a freezer up until about a day ago, when the stupidly old-fashioned thing broke down again in the first heat wave of the year, so now he’s using up the few things he’d had squirrelled away in there before they go bad. Or, worse. Not much makes it over to the isle before it goes bad, and the original broth had been made with some pretty questionable root vegetables, in addition to the chicken carcass that he’d saved after picking it clean. 

Jay clatters his way inside the window, and Carlos turns back to him, irritation faded but not forgotten. “What’re you doing.” he asks, and it’s not a question. “You can’t be inside when my mother comes in, remember?” 

“I know, chill the fuck out.” Jay says, leaning down to tuck his head through the open window. “I’m just helping you out for a sec.” 

There are only so many things that Carlos can worry about at once, and the whims of another teenage boy aren’t one of them. “Thanks.” 

“No problem,” Jay says, grinning, and presses their lips together. 

Carlos opens his mouth into the kiss on pure instinct. Sweetness blooms across his tongue, bitter and rich and complex all at once. Jay slips his tongue deeper, and the flavor spreads, somehow even sweeter than before as it melts and spreads deeper. It’s like nothing that Carlos has ever tasted before, and he’s kissed Jay a lot of times, in a lot of situations. It therefore stands to reason that this isn’t some new and previously unknown kissing ability that Jay’s developed, and is instead some rare treat that he’s chosen to share. Through kissing. 

Well then. 

Carlos tips his head back, going pliant and soft under the attention. The flavor is somehow hot, sweetness combining with the bitter bite of it and spreading to make his mouth feel warm and tacky with whatever the treat is. Jay nibbles at his lip, and Carlos obediently opens his mouth wider, so that Jay can slip more of his tongue inside, and– 

Oh. Deposit a soft chunk of something inside his mouth, something that tastes amazing and even more delicious when it’s not diluted by two people’s worth of spit and slick kissing messiness. 

Jay pulls back, one hand guiding Carlos’s chin up so that he closes his mouth properly around the treat, the other planted firmly on his hip, holding him upright. Gods, but it’s nice to have somebody around who knows exactly the ways that Carlos likes to be kissed, and also understands that the wobbly thing that always happens with his knees afterwards is fine and normal and just means he needs a second more support before being let go again. 

Gods. Carlos is a man (teenager. whatever.) of science, but a treat this good deserves the invocation of some sort of higher power, because there is no way that Jay got something this good on the isle without divine intervention. It’s soft and sweet while not being overpowering the way the usual boiled sweets they sometimes get over are, and the background flavor is somehow bitter like coffee without being like coffee, and it’s so good that Carlos doesn’t want to swallow the last little sliver of it and have it be gone forever. 

He does, because keeping a mouthful of sweet spit in his mouth forever would actually be disgusting, and opens his eyes to find Jay grinning at him. 

“It’s good, right?” 

Carlos nods. “It’s so good. How did–what is it?” 

Jay laughs. “It’s called dark chocolate. My dad got a case from one of the goblins, and he’s been trying to sell it without letting anyone know he has it. I got curious, and–” he gestures between them. “You’re the best cook I know, so I figured if anyone deserves to try it with me, it’s gotta be you.”

Carlos shouldn’t be greedy. He’s a– He’s a villain. He’s allowed a brief indulgence of greed. “Do you have more?” 

Jay pulls a paper-wrapped package out of his hip pocket. “Not much. I was gonna wait until later, but…” 

Carlos is still so hungry that the smell of cooking chicken broth and tomatoes is making him faintly nauseous, and the soup will have to be tended to soon, and his mother is still in the room just across the hall, and could come in at any moment, but. “I will literally suck your dick right here in this kitchen if you let me have more.” 

Jay laughs. “Dude. No dick sucking necessary. I brought it over here for you.” 

Carlos breathes in slowly, pulling the air in through his mouth. The flavor of the chocolate is still lingering on the back of his tongue, and he wants.  

“Give me an hour,” Carlos says slowly, letting the words drag over his tongue as he says them, imagining that they’re as sweet and delicious as the chocolate that Jay has waiting in the paper wrapper for them. “One hour. To finish this. And then I’ll meet you in the treehouse, and you can have whatever you want.” 

“Deal,” Jay whispers against his lips. “Don’t be late.”

That reminds me about one of the many things that should've given away that I was definitely not neaurotipical; I loved the story of the ugly duckling so fucking much as a kid I didn't want and despised having to read anything else. I had a book(I'm pretty sure I still have it) with the story of the ugly duckling and two others in it but like I couldn't bother reading the other two stories, I think I tried at one point but they were boring ass romances, one true love fixes all and the other was God Forbid Women Have Standards, but I sure as hell could recite you the ugly duckling one backwards

Middle of the fucking night, I go to the bathroom and hear my fucking chickens screaming???? Go out to their coop and they’re out in the fully fucking enclosed pen with bloody faces and there are feathers everywhere. They’re okay, thankfully, but Jesus Christ can these fucking predators quit trying to kill my birds?????? I keep them cooped now to keep this from happening and something still tries to eat them like STOP IT. So now they’re in an extra large dog crate in my milk room 😑

party time!! (they’ve been waiting outside for the past two hours…)

happy 8th anniversary, fnaf!!

Idk there’s something about characters in media who are entirely evil that I really hate. And by entirely evil I mean like has not a single redeeming quality. I love MASH (obviously) but Frank Burns is the kind of character who pisses me off because it feels like such a weak shorthand to me to make a character who is mean and cowardly and criminally bad at his job and has a loveless marriage and doesn’t have any friends and is a huge hypocrite and acts like a child and whines constantly and on and on and on…I just feel that there’s an implication there that bad people have not a single thing that is good about them and they live the exact miserable lives they deserve, and it’s such a boring black and white way to present characters. It’s like Disney movie storytelling where the villains are ugly and the heroes are beautiful. Anyway that’s why I think they did something so different with Charles—he’s still an antagonist for a lot of the episodes and you would hate him if you knew him irl but he has all these little pieces of personhood that show up every once in awhile. It’s like he’s actually there in a way that Frank never was.

im not going to do anything drastic like deleting my entire ao3, but like... i work so so much, and what little free time i have is taken up with adult shit and i wish i had more time to write!!! i don't feel inspiration!!! because it requires energy that i do not have!!! if i'm not working 7:30 am to 5:00 pm, then what time i have left over is spent trying to stay alive!!!! i don't know. im feeling hopeless about my writing lately.

honestly about life in general.

bakugo or kirishima stick their hands in their pants/draws when they're sleeping and can't understand why you scoot away from them because you don't wanna be touched w their musty hand

OH you're they're so FOUL for this!!!

And I can imagine it, too... the way Kirishima will wake up from a quick nap while waiting for dinner, and then wander into the kitchen and act like he wasn't just using his dick as a hand warmer when he goes to steal a bite of meat out of the pot.

He's still sorta groggy too so when u get mad, he's just, "why are you yelling at me? What did I do???" SIR IF YOU DON'T GET THE PEROXIDE—

and lmfao I'm not sure if Bakugo is better or worse. He wakes up to pull his hand out of his pants and then goes straight in for one of those sleepy kisses that would be cute if he DIDN'T JUST TRY TO CUP YOUR JAW TO PULL YOU CLOSER.

and knowing him, too, when you make a face and try to pull away from that, he's getting super grumpy and confused even though it's HIS fault😩😩😩 like, you don't try to rub your gooch grease on his face and yet. YET!!!!!!!!!!

i cannot stand them for real.

challenge:

tell me the trait that makes animals unworthy of respect and happy lives, why is it okay to hurt and kill them?

animals don't speak? some people don't either

they aren't as smart as humans? babies eint that smart either

they are alive to be eaten? would it be ok to breed people for food?

it goes on and on, any trait you can think of doesn't stand up when you put it on a human or even an animal you love because you cant morally justify hurting and killing a being that wants to live and be happy.

please just think (even do some research about what their lives and deaths are like) and do something about it.

every time i have a really bad bout of insommnia i realize all over again that im not going to be able to trust my ability to sleep for a very long time...the last time i had even a little bit of trouble sleeping was months and months ago, and i was still able to nod off before 1:30am and get a more or less full night's rest. now it's 2:16am, i've got that fluttery feeling of unrest in my chest that i haven't felt, not really, since last summer, and there are so many things in my mind that i feel like i have to take care of that i just can't relax. i nodded off for about an hour and woke up just before 2am and felt immediately a) sick to my stomach b) the sure and certain knowledge that it might be the most sleep i got at ALL tonight and just the thought of that brought me right back to wide awake. maybe it was something i ate today maybe it was the myriad of things that have gone weird this week - have to finish paperwork for my job for fundraising and the boss wants it (very literally) yesterday, so of course my ability to satisfy what he wants has to be hampered by sleeplessness and exhaustion; i've got a fun family gathering all weekend at an amusement park that i've decided to actually go to this year despite ducking out on the three previous years for work reasons and covid reasons and all very good reasons but now i'm going and good lord i'm terrified of getting sick because i'm just too stupid to stay home. and i fucked up and got the weeks wrong for my most recent therapy appointment and i haven't heard back from her when i texted her to ask what the actual date was so i'm just. starting to think she's dropped me unceremoniously and i'll never hear from her again and it's my fault because i should've been more on the ball to begin with. and who i WANT to talk to about all this is the therapist but. well. ive screwed up somehow and i'm terrified to reach out again because what if that just pisses her off? surely this is not the right way to think about that situation but i need her to tell me what the right way IS. and well you can see my conundrum. anyway it's now edging in on 2:30 and the only thing i can think to do is work on my fundraising paperwork now, at 2am, so that if i call off sick tomorrow on account of no sleep and, probably, impending actual sickness because why else would i not be able to sleep? the last time i had this much trouble i was actually sick, like with a flu, so . anyway if i work on the paperwork NOW then i can send it in tomorrow from home and at least i will not be a complete failure of an employee. fuck my stupid baka life

the more i reflect on the fact that wuvvy knew the whole time that rue WAS the one who broke up the apollo/gribalba engagement the more i need to take days off of work to recover.

finally finished reading the reigen spinoff-manga. i will never emotionally recover from this

ok so like. between Sentido and In the Next Life, the kudos discrepancy is obvious (it being a tristamp vs trimax fic)

but honestly, the engagement with In the Next Life is honestly rly encouraging. a 10.8% comments to kudos percentage for Sentido vs 30.8% for ITNL

it was a lil discouraging at first how few kudos it got bc i just got off the high of super fast growing Sentido. but like, when you think about it it makes a lot of sense. the general tristamp fic with a simple setup & effective character exploration using a structure i havent seen otherwise.

vs heavy heavy HEAVY trimax spoilers fic. like this fic is made For Me to cope with reading trimax. but for ppl who dont read as fast as me or havent started it after watching tristamp. if they care about spoilers, this is not what theyre gonna be reading

so it makes sense! and im no longer disappointed, especially considering how sweet all my commenters have been.

im just gonna keep goin at it. im writing this for Me, and either it'll get more attention or it wont. it's enough for the people who are here now to continue this journey with me.

begging my sinners to stop getting beat to death by a giant fucking cock

the chicks are 2 weeks old today! they're so big now, its crazy ;w; i'm pretty sure i know what breed Blackberry is now too! I think she's a Dominique chicken! i still have no idea what Parsley and Melon are but that's my guess for Blackberry after looking at a bunch of Dominique chick pictures lol

sk if they were based